


He Looked At You With His Empty Eyes

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Despicable [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Black Markets, Brothels, Illegal Activities, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Space Stations, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: Drawn into Steve's mess, Bucky is veryexasperated.





	He Looked At You With His Empty Eyes

He made good winnings off the scraps he’d picked off the cruiser. He dropped back by the Alpine to leave the cart, and packed a bag. He supposed they would probably want him to stay with them while they made up some sort of plan. Hopefully, they had a ship to use for said mission, too, because Bucky was _not_ about to drag Alpine into this.

He made his way to Club Malibu again. This time, the bouncers didn’t stop him, instead only stepping out of his way and holding the door for him. Bucky pushed through the crowd to the back, stepping back into the office/VIP lounge.

Everyone from before were still there. Steve was still huddled up on the couch, now with a plate of food in his lap.

Bucky headed directly for the bar. He looked through what it had to offer, finally deciding on a nice bottle of Earth-made gin.

“Where’s my bunk?” he asked as he popped the cap, then took a long sip.

Stark sighed. “Pepper, would you?” he said, almost pleading.

One of the women smiled. She leaned in a pressed a kiss to Stark’s head. “Of course,” she said, then got up.

Bucky followed her through a back door out of the club entirely. They walked the streets for some minutes, pushing through the crowd of drunk clubbers, until they reached one of the hotels. Pepper gave him a key-card and a room-number, then she was on her way again. Bucky stepped into the hotel. He passed by the reception desk, heading straight for the elevator. He swiped the key-card and the elevator began to move.

He stepped out of the elevator when it stopped and found his room to be… Well, the entire floor of the hotel. It was one giant apartment, instead of the small sleeping pod he had been expecting. The outer walls were all glass, but the view was not that of the crowded street below and the neon-landscape of bars and clubs and casinos. It was a beach. Pristine white sand, perfect blue ocean, clear sky, sun shining, palm-trees swaying in the wind.

This room _(Apartment? Penthouse?)_ must have cost more to rent than Bucky could hope to earn in his entire life.

What the fuck?

He sure didn’t expect this.

Whatever. Not his dime.

He threw himself down on one of the huge couches, popped open the gin, and ordered the room AI to put on a good movie for him.

*

When the elevator pinged, Bucky was _naked,_ as people _tended_ to be when they had just stepped out of the shower. He barely had the time to put his underwear on before the elevator doors opened, and Steve and his whole motley crew walked out.

“Woulda thought you fancy fuckin’ stationmen’d know to give some fuckin’ _notice_ ‘fore ya barge in on a man,” Bucky muttered, mostly to himself, as he dug around in his bag for new clothes, balancing a towel turban on his head. “But _hey,_ what do _I_ know? ‘M just trash from the K’Derias, yeah?”

“Where’d you get the arm?” Stark asked, throwing himself down to lounge across one of the couches.

The others did pretty much the same.

“You _do_ know they’ve been growin’ whole _limbs_ for transplant for the last hundred years or so, right?” Stark added.

Bucky hummed, stepping into a pair of pants. “Well, transplants cost about fifteen million, and that’d be _just_ the arm itself. _Then_ there’s the surgery and hospital costs, the rehab, the physiotherapy, landin’ ya at about a total of _fifty_ million, while this were cybernetic only cost me a total of _two_ millions, so the choice was kind made _for_ me, y’know? See, the thing is, _Stark,_ not everyone’s got your kinda money to throw ‘round, so how ‘bout you quit lecturin’ about shit you know _nothin’_ about? How’s that sound?”

Stark grimaced at him, clearly displeased with being told to _shut the fuck up._

“What do ya want now, then?” the scrapper asked as he took a seat in the closest armchair with a pack of candies from his bag.

He put his feet up on the closest surface and popped a chocolate snap in his mouth.

“We wanted to show you exactly what it is we’re doing,” Steve said. “And why we need your help.”

Bucky hummed.

The woman who wasn’t Pepper, the one who’s name Bucky had yet to hear, placed a glass tablet on the sprawling coffee table. She let it scan her fingerprint, which activated the holoscreen. The hologram floated above the coffee table for everyone to see.

It showed a picture of Pierce, the Senator in charge of SHIELD. It was a press photo, so of course, he looked like an absolute _angel._

“All of us, save for Stark, have at one point or another been embedded within SHIELD or its branch organizations,” the woman who’s name was not Pepper informed. “It started with me. I worked for SHIELD a few years ago and started noticing _things._ I contacted a few friends of mine, some of which are here with us, and we decided to look into these things.”

Steve nodded. He swiped at the hologram. The picture changed to rows upon rows upon rows of documents and pictures, a few videos moving as they scrolled by.

“During out investigations, we’ve found a _huge_ network of corruption within SHIELD, with arms reaching as far up as to influence the Galactic Federation Senate, of which Pierce is a member. The evidence is scarce, but it points to Pierce being the leader of this whole…shadow organization,” Steve continued where the woman had left off. “We’ve gathered what _we think_ will be enough evidence to convince SHIELD Director Nick Fury that this is real. All we need to do is get in front of him. That’s what we need you for. Pierce had God knows how many people at SHIELD under his thumb. We can’t just walk in. We need you to smuggle someone, _me,_ into SHIELD HQ and into Fury’s office so we can see him face-to-face. We can’t say how many innocent people have been hurt by this _thing_ Pierce’s built inside SHIELD, and we don’t know if we ever will, or if we can ever make up for the damage done, but at least we can try to _stop more damage from being done.”_

Bucky chewed slowly on his snaps.

Interesting.

“You just tell us what you need to be able to get me in that office, and we’ll try to get it for you.”

Bucky hummed.

Sounded like a good cause, he had to admit.

“Leave the tablet. Lemme look through whatcha got. If it’s worth my time, I’ll start doin’ some research. Figure out a plan.”

A smile filled Steve’s face. “Great! Thank you!”

Bucky was really kind of getting sick of Steve, to be perfectly honest.

“Can you leave now?” he asked plainly. “I work best when I’m alone.”

“I’m staying,” Steve said, that defiant look in his eyes again as his smile disappeared. “This is a complex situation. Someone who knows the _in’s and out’s_ should be a part of the planning. And no offense, but I think everyone else is kinda _over_ your whole _the world is my enemy_ shtick.”

Bucky shrugged. He pawed at the floor beside his armchair and found the bottle of gin.

“Ain’t a _shtick_ if it’s true,” he said and took a long sip of the gin. “Either way, how ‘bout the ones who ain’t stayin’ start movin’? ‘Pparently I got some work to do.”

And they did, thank fuck. The whole lot of them, except Steve, of fucking course, left. Steve stayed on the couch.

Bucky grabbed the bottle, the snaps, and the tablet, then went to the bedroom.

Christ, he couldn’t stand those dumb blue eyes staring at him. What was Steve’s deal with just _staring_ at him like that? Felt weird as hell.

Thank Christ the little idiot didn’t follow him, at least.

*

“What’s a Class 9 Quinjet?”

“Transport ships. The kind SHIELD uses to move people and gear,” Bucky explained. “We need one. Easiest way in. If we get a hold of an access code, they’ll let us right in. If we’re in any other kinda ship, they’ll be _way_ more scrutinizing. Stop us at the port, search the ship, question everyone. We’ll be done before we get through the gate.”

_Uch..._

_‘We’?_ Blech.

Steve let out a sigh. “Okay. I’ll call Tony. Get him started.”

“Tell him it needs to be done on the hush, yeah? Word gets out someone’s buyin’ up Quinjets, askin’ ‘bout uniforms… We’ll be screwed then too," Bucky added. “I’m headin’ down to the Black Alley. See if I can scrounge up some’a the goods there.”

“What’s the Black Alley?” Steve asked curiously.

Bucky had to scoff. He grabbed his jacket and stepped into his boots.

“Scrapper’s paradise, is what it is,” he said as he slid his gun into the holster on his hip.

As he headed for the elevator, he heard Steve scrambling to follow him.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky asked, turning on his toes, which made Steve almost collide into his chest.

“I’m coming with you?”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

Bucky sighed, rubbing at his eyes for a moment. “Look, if you don’t know what the Black Alley is, you _obviously_ don’t belong there. They’d rip ya to shreds as soon as they saw ya.”

“Not if I’m with _you!”_

“You ain’t _with_ me, alright? Only thing you are is a damn _nuisance!”_

“Okay, well, then when I call Tony, I’ll just tell him not to tell you the name of whoever owns K'Deria 6-”

Before he could finish that thought, Bucky had him by the front of his shirt, shoved up against the wall beside the elevator.

_“Nothing_ is gonna stand between me and _that fucking name!”_ he shouted, right in Steve’s face. “Least of all _you!”_

“Then take me with you!” Steve shouted right back at him, as defiant as he always fucking seemed to be.

Bucky tried to take a breath and calm himself down.

“D’you even know what the K'Derias are?”

Steve seemed, honestly, just a little caught off guard by the question.

“Um... A planet system?”

“D’you know what a garbage planet is?”

“N-No?”

“No one ever fucking does, do they?” Bucky said plainly. “If you knew, you’d know why I _need_ that name. And you’d know I’ll do _anything_ to get it. Including, killin’ _you_ for standin’ in my way.”

He watched Steve’s slender throat move as he swallowed.

“Then let me help,” was all he said.

*

Bucky regretted everything.

Why was he dumb enough to get himself talked into letting Steve come with him?

He dressed Steve up in some of his own clothes; Steve was way too proper-looking to be in the Black Alley. Bucky had to mess him up a little. Put him in ill-fitting clothes, a dirty jacket, Bucky’s knife strapped to his hip, hair all mussed up and messy. Still looked way put of place in the Alley, but it was better than nothing.

The Black Alley wasn’t kind to people like Steve; people who didn’t belong.

It was some of the oldest parts of the station, kept together by duct tape and God’s grace. It was the kind of place where you could end up dead for just looking at the wrong person. A complete nuthouse, is what Bucky was saying. Not even SHIELD’s people dared to venture down there too often, and certainly not without plenty of back up.

It smelled even worse than the rest of the Station, if that was even possible. It was loud and crowded as hell. The streets were tight and narrow, lined with shops and stands, drug dens and whorehouses, weapons dealers and anything else a person might need if they had something less than pleasant in mind. Half the people were more than half cybernetic.

Bucky fit right in.

Steve, however...

Well, Bucky did everything he could.

On Bucky’s strict orders, Steve followed close in the scrappers footsteps. _Eyes forward, but don’t linger too long on any one person. Say nothing. Do nothing. Hands to yourself. Whatever happens, whatever you see, don’t intervene._

Bucky could almost fucking _feel_ Steve vibrating with nerves, even when he walked behind the scrapper.

They snaked through the crowd. Bucky mad sure to glance over his shoulder as often as he could, just to make sure Steve was still there. The scrapper smiled and nodded at the few people he knew, as they passed each other. He’d been through the Alley often enough to get decently friendly with a few of the regulars. He even threw a wave at a shopkeeper or two.

They reached the flickering neon sign of the Black Widow. The bar was seedy at best, but it was one of Bucky’s favorite spots on the Station. Usually dropped in for a drink whenever he was around. For a whorehouse, they had surprisingly good drinks.

The redhead behind the bar smiled when she saw him; she began to pour him his usual right away. Bucky checked again that Steve hadn’t gotten lost then moved to the bar. Scantily clad men and women moved around the place, flirting with customers, trying their hardest to get a client.

“Tasha,” he said, reaching his hand across the counter. “Good to see ya.”

“You too, Buck,” Natasha said, shaking his hand. “Been a while. Almost started thinkin’ you forgot about us.”

Bucky chuckled, taking the tall glass of foaming beer she placed in front of him. “How could I ever forget the best glass’a Red Wire in the galaxy?” he said in reference to the beer then took a long sip. “Hey, like ya to me someone.”

He grabbed Steve by the shoulder and pulled him forward into sight.

“Steve, Natasha. Natasha, Steve,” he introduced simply. “New friend meet old friend. Old friend meet new friend. Well, _friend_ ain’t the word. _Partner in a certain business venture_ ought’a be more proper.”

Steve waved awkwardly. Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking from him to Bucky. Bucky dismissed it with an eye-roll and a head-shake.

“Sure,” Natasha hummed. “So what can I do for you? Pretty sure you didn’t come just for the Red Wire.”

Bucky sipped again, licking the pink foam from his lips. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. It’s one helluva story, believe me.”

The bartender nodded. She waved one of her girls over to take the reins, then lead the way to the office upstairs.

“Who is she?” Steve asked softly as they moved up the stairs.

“Uh, it’s...complicated?” Bucky said, hoping Steve would settle for that.

“Ex-wife,” Natasha said ahead of them. “So yeah, it’s pretty complicated.”

_Great._

Now Bucky would have to endure a questioning about that too. Awesome.


End file.
